


Perpetuum Nox

by Terrephilo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrephilo/pseuds/Terrephilo
Summary: In the last years of the dying Holy Roman Empire, an exile wizard tries to stave off his debt to a dark party by taking a dangerous contract in the depths of the german black forest. Now he needs to find missing children and exterminate their captors before his deadline brings his final curtain call. Tortured by the shadows of his past, he needs to remember his yesteryears at Hogwarts, to solve the mysteries of Freiburg in 1795.Because when the Perpetuum Nox comes, maybe only one wizard can stop the horrors it brings in its wake.
Relationships: OC/OC
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Perpetuum Nox

**Author's Note:**

> While I have experience at writing short stories, I am completely new at writing Fan Fiction. In fact, this is my first. This story (or at least this first chapter) has been an idea for several months now, bc the idea of a non-Hogwarts setting in the past intrigued me.  
> If you like Fantasy stories filled with back alley fights, intrigue and high magic plots, you are like me and might even enjoy this story. 
> 
> Either way, I am super new to this and would be happy about any kind of critique.

_Four days and nine hours left_

Sometimes Coniferus thought he could still feel the handshake that had killed him.

Sure, he was still alive, but also a dead man walking. Five days from now, that would change. And he intended not to let it change in the way that would kill him.

The carriage hit a road hole and all passengers, Coniferus included, cussed while they made an unintended hop. Still better than walking though. The forest was dank and thick, filled with bandits and probably even some magical beasts of the unfriendly kind.

In that light, maybe walking would have been better. Maybe somewhere out there was also something that would make a better wand core than some blasted Kneazle fur. Especially because Coniferus thought that the Kneazle had to be half cat to have fur this impotent. That or Coniferus just really sucked at wandmaking.

They said making your own wand is hard. They said not being trained in wandmaking means inviting danger in your life. To be entirely fair, they were right.

He weighted the thick oak staff in his hand while the carriage slumped through the rainy afternoon. This wand, if it could even be called that, was unreliable at best, potentially dangerous at worst. But with his old one broken and his deadline coming closer, he needed _something_ to help him get the money. Or else… well. Death by debt.

He forced his mind away from the feeling of impending dread and instead gripped the staff harder. An experiment. That would help him. Bring his mind away from it all. Trying out the staff. If the thing would explode like its predecessor, better testing it with something small in safe circumstances than in a life-or-death situation. He looked up. A carriage filled with muggles might not be the best place to test out a possible dangerous magical Staff. But alas, he wasn’t exiled for his admirable moral compass or his particular clean slate. He turned his back towards the other passengers and pulled out the letter. He had on multiple occasions tried to make the writing on it visible, but all his wands so far had failed. Well “wands”.

“Aparecium“, he murmured.

Letters began to appear on the page, like ripples on water, when hit by a droplet. But the letters stopped after a few centimeters, leaving only the middle of the letter readable. Better than nothing. But damn. This staff was a no-good replacing for a proper wand. He read the contents of the letter, then turned around again. The letter warned – as far as he could tell – of his deadline and the sum he owed. He sighed. So much for getting his mind off it all.

He looked up.

The others in the small vehicle looked at him in ill-concealed distrust. _Der Engländer_ , they called him, when they thought he wasn’t listening. It meant “the English”.

Incredibly rude, considering he was welsh.

Being obliging, he had to admit that he just thought of them as “them”, even though they were individuals from all around the empire. Even though that empire seemed to be in its last death throws, people were still bound by the idea of a united Germany. And Coniferus – to them – surely did look like an early carrion eater, waiting for their coming end.

 _Bloody Germans_ , he thought, still weighing the staff in his hand again, _let me catch a break._

The carriage stopped.

_Not the kind of break I was aiming for, but I’ll take it._

He stood from his hardly cushioned seat and pressed towards the exit. They were here. Freiburg. The others had luggage and needed to wait. He had a magic rucksack filled with half a household. He _was_ a wizard after all, broken wand or not. He got his belongings and took the road towards the city, surrounded by great dark trees, stopping only when a large puddle made him halt and search for a way to follow the road without getting wet.

From the reflection in the puddle, a corpse stared at him. Although the man inside the reflection was not dead, he had also died a long time ago. A shaggy black beard and just as black tangles of tallowy hair hid a dirty gaunt face with a broken nose and hollow eyes.

The shadow of a man that had been once an… no.

That was past.

Now he was just like this nation, he travelled through. Already dead, but still struggling.

“Herr Brambledorn?”, a voice asked.

Corniferus looked up.

A man of lean frame with a hawk’s face, wearing the uniform of an imperial military official looked at him, coming from the city gates.

“Grüß Gott,” the soldier said, “Ich würde Ihnen nur gern ein paar Fragen stellen.“

Corniferus looked confused.

„Mein Deutsch… nicht gut, Herr…?“, he asked.

My german isn’t good.

„I’m sorry, Herr Bambledorn“, the soldier said with only a hint of an accent, “Feldwebel Günther Hageler my name. I think we corresponded?“

He kept pronouncing ‘thorn’ as ‘dorn.’ Annoying.

„We did“, Coniferus said, slowly lessening the knuckle whitening grip he had around his staff.

The man came closer, looking nervously around and waited until he was sure other passengers were out of earshot.

“So you got the letters?”, he asked Coniferus.

“Yeah”, he said, thinking about his experiment in the carriage. “The latest was… a little vague and I just now read it, but I am briefed.”

“So… you said that you knew about… our problem?”, the Feldwebel said, taking Coniferus by the arm and pulling him a little farther away from the crowd, as it started moving towards the city. While he pulled him away, he hit him with an apologizing smile. He was a handsome man.

“You know”, the soldier said, “Like of course you read the letters. But do you know what it could be? My man here wasn’t sure. But do you know?”

More smiling.

“Erklings”, Coniferus said quietly, jerking his attention away from the smile. “Yes.”

The Feldwebel nodded.

“In my function as human intermediary for the german wizarding community, I can assure you that my forces were unable to contain the threat and thus I am able to promise you a convincing payment.”

Coniferus nodded, imitating the soldier’s gesture.

“In silver?”

“Well, yes. In Thalern. Reichswährung. No wizard’s money, true, but at least money.”

Coniferus sighed, but smiled. There would have been times when he would have refused being paid in muggle currency, but these times of plenty were long past memories. Now he needed every coin desperately. To pay them back.

“You said you’re the human intermediary?”, he asked, emphasizing the word human.

They were muggles after all and both – muggles and wizards – were humans.

The Feldwebel smiled again.

“Yes. We don’t call ourselves _Can’t Spells_. Sounds… derogatory. Like an insult.”

“But we’re humans too”, Coniferus said.

“You are”, the Feldwebel admitted, “In a way, I am sure. But we won’t insult ourselves, just because your people were born with… something.”

A nervousness flickered in his eyes. Then the soldier slapped Conifers back and started walking him from the little outcropping at the towns edge to the beginnings of the wall surrounding Freiburg.

“Anyways. I know I can’t tell anyone what you’re doing here, so I didn’t. For my soldiers, you’re a snooper and an English one at that. But I’ll try my best to make sure that meine Burschen won’t be in your ways.”

Coniferus cocked his head.

“Your… your what?”

“My boys, Herr Brambledorn. The soldiers. Well, just focus on the task at hand. If you need something, send word to me, I’ll see what I can do. And… Herr Brambledorn?”

“Yes?”, Coniferus asked.

“Willkommen im Schwarzwald.”

The Feldwebel walked away. Suddenly a great weight laid itself on Coniferus shoulders. Heaviness enveloped his mind and the crude, self-made staff now weight tons. His last staff had been about a meter long, but exploded the moment he tried a Lumos charm. This new one had yet to be tested properly, but Coniferus believed that his new creation would be better suited, being about as tall as him. Making small wands himself was impossible and one of his leading theories was that making the wand bigger made it more stable. At least, if the wandmaker didn’t know what they were doing. More wood meant – hopefully – more cushioning for the magic channeling through it. Thus, his new wand was a real staff. Using his very last of the Kneazle fur, which he had bought from the travelling French breeder, he had made it himself.

This had to work. It had to.

If he failed this contract, or if he even needed longer then the five days he had left, they’d find him. Merlin’s underwear, they didn’t even need to find him. The vow would kill him for them.

 _Breathe_ , he told himself, _Breathe. You found and killed Erklings before. You can do it again._

But that had been in another lifetime, hadn’t it?

When his wand was intact. When he had been an… no. That was gone. Everything that was important now were the missing children. Find them, safe them if it wasn’t too late yet and then kill the Erklings.

He had murdered before, after all.

Coniferus started walking. Around him the constant murmur of a city tried to drown out his thoughts. But bad thoughts were persistent. Especially when considering killing feyfolk.

When did he started to think about this part of his job as _murder_? Had he become this weak? Or was the stress finally getting to him? He shook his head, trying to get it clear. The movement allowed rain to get into his hood. The wetness felt raw and disgusting against his hot skin and was repulsive instead of refreshing.

 _Find the children_ , he thought, _then kill the pests that stole them, get paid and fulfill the vow._

Easy. He walked a while, thinking of nothing in particular at first. Then his mind switched to a picture.

Himself.

Five days from now on.

A limp corpse, next to a clock which’s hands showed midnight.

Dark thoughts.

Suddenly, the clock tolled.

He jumped, looking around in a sudden panic. Had his future come early? Had his death come with a time turner to claim his soul prematurely?

_No._

He looked up.

While brooding, he had reached the city proper, standing before the big belltower. A gothic monstrosity of spires and reddish-grey brick with a teal window in front and an orange clock above.

Sixteen o’ clock.

Four days and eight hours remaining.

This looked like he wouldn’t get a lot of sleep.


End file.
